


Tattoos and Bullshit

by pixielove



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Angst, Dark Larry, Harry dom, Hurt, Louis sub, M/M, Rimming, larry oneshot, larry stylinson - Freeform, larry stylinson smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:13:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixielove/pseuds/pixielove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People always wanted to know the meaning behind tattoos. Harry liked to think his body was covered in meaning, that all of this ink scattering his body depicted the secrets he couldn’t tell the world, but maybe Harry had been wrong. Maybe his tattoos were meaningless. Maybe they were as bullshit as his relationship with Louis Tomlinson was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tattoos and Bullshit

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgatE2QeVIs

*****

 

Heart pounding beneath his ribcage, Harry settled back on the leather bed, waiting for the buzzing of the needles to approach his skin. A sense of adrenalin always seemed to wash over him before the needles even touched his skin, maybe to prepare him. It was never too bad though. In fact, it was quite pleasant, he thought. His artist – he didn’t know his name, applied the stencil to Harry, just beneath his collarbone.

“What’s it mean, then?” the young tattooist quizzed Harry as he got himself prepared. Harry looked down at the design. 17Black.

Harry smiled, dimples pulling out. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he laughed, as the artist changed the track on his iPod which was plugged into a huge stereo surround system.

“I look inside myself to see my heart is black,

I see my red door I must have it pained black

Maybe then I’ll fade away and not have to face the facts,

It’s not easy facing up when your whole world is black…”

“What’s this?” Harry asked, gesturing to the song, as the tattooist moved to sit down, grabbing his tattoo gun and dabbing it in the ink.

“’The Tea Party’ they’re called. ‘Paint it Black,’ is the song, which is rather ironic. Now you have to tell me what ‘17Black’ means. C’mon. I can keep a secret. I mean, I know tattoos don’t have to mean anything. See this fucking skull and roses?” he asked, pointing to a tattoo on his arm of a skull with a blue tongue coming out of its skeleton mouth and roses blooming from its eyes sockets, “Don’t mean a thing. But 17Black looks like it means something. Favourite sports person or something? Is this their number, then?”

Maybe he was being conversational to keep Harry distracted as he started on Harry’s stencil, dragging the needles along, puncturing his skin as he went, a stinging sensation following. Harry was a little distracted, distracted by potent blue eyes, the memory of a hushed whisper tingling through his eardrums, making playlists for one another, a soft touch in the dark, frantic kisses against the wall. The tattooist, however, was rather astute. It was for his favourite “sports person,” just not in the way the artist thought.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What is it? Soccer? You a big fan, then? I don’t really get much into sports myself.” Before long he was colouring ‘17Black’ in, black ink, thick.

And Harry just blurted it out. “My boyfriend. His shirt, for soccer.” He was starting to feel light-headed and a little dizzy as the needle dragged around the same spot for too long. It made him feel relaxed, a little too relaxed, almost faint.

“Nice! Though I don’t usually recommended couples tattoos. I straight up refuse to tattoo couples names. You can always act like a symbol for your relationship means something else if you break up, but if you have their name on your skin, you can’t quite get away from that. I mean, you can always try laser removal but it’s more painful and expensive and it takes heaps of sessions…plus it never really goes away completely.”

Harry hadn’t really thought of the implications of what would happen if they broke up. Their relationship wasn’t typical or orthodox in any way whatsoever anyway. “He’ll always be with me, even if…you know, if things changed. I don’t think they will. But if they did, we’d always be best friends, so I don’t think I could regret any of this…” he said, gesturing at his other tattoos.

“Are they all for him?” the artist chuckled.

“No,” he laughed. “They’re all telling a story, I guess. It’s about me, the band, him, Gem, mum. The story of my life, I suppose.”

*****

Harry made a bee-line for his apartment while his phone buzzed continually in the pocket of his jeans whilst he drove through the city. Harry ignored it until he was parked in the basement. Pulling out the phone, Harry saw that he had five texts from Taylor and two missed calls. Feeling quite angered, he scrolled through the messages.

_I miss you…call me_

_Harry are you okay? Call me when you get this_

_Harry, I’m thinking of coming to London for a few days – xo._

Sighing, Harry typed out a response, knowing that he couldn’t be a total jerk and ignore her forever, after all, he had gotten himself caught up in this.

_Hey babe, sounds great. I’ll call you later. Stupid meetings at the moment. XO._

There. That should shut her up for a while. Harry stuck his phone in his pocket and hopped out of the car, rushing into the lift and onward to his apartment complex.

“Lou? Babe?” he called out as soon as he entered the house. Louis was camped out on the sofa watching an episode of Friends with a bowl of popcorn between his legs. Harry approached him from behind and wrapped his arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Louis reached for the remote and pressed pause.

“Miss me?” Harry asked.

Louis pouted. “It’s not nice, you know, to take off while I’m asleep and not even leave me a note.”

“You could have texted if you were so worried?” Harry smirked.

“Nah, I’m not that clingy, love.” Louis said, wriggling the tip of his nose. “I always hated those kinda girlfriends in school, the ones who were super clingy,” he added, chucking another mouthful of popcorn into his gob.  
Harry knew the feeling. Taylor was wearing Harry down with her clinginess, constantly messaging him all the time. It was as if she were signalled by telepathic messaging because a moment later the phone in his pocket started buzzing again. Louis’ eyes zapped to it, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he reached out to grab it. Harry, slow to react, didn’t realise what had happened before it was too late. The light dimmed from Louis’ eyes, the spark of mischief dying on the spot, a dark shadow replacing it.

“It’s not what you think!” Harry blurted out.

“It’s exactly what I think. She’s texting you all the time. She wants to come to London to be with you and what do you say? “Sounds great,” … are you kidding me? I thought this bullshit was over! I thought you said it was over!” he fumed.

“C’mon Lou, you’re overreacting,” Harry sighed, moving around the sofa to come face to face with Louis, he sank to his knees and reached out for Louis’ hands, who snatched his hands free from Harry’s grip. “You’re being ridiculous, you know. What about you and Eleanor, hmm? You can’t really talk.”

“I’m not fucking really with Eleanor!” he fumed, rising to his feet. Harry rose with him, looking at Louis warily. “You and that slut on the other hand-"

“Fuck you, Louis,” Harry said darkly, deep voice and low tone even lower now. “Don’t talk like that about her. She’s my friend. I’m not really with her with her, not the way the press think. You know that. It’s the same as you and Eleanor. You can’t be mad at me for that.”

Louis’ nostrils flared as he shot daggers at Harry, blue eyes blazing with heat and without warning, he shoved Harry as hard as he could. The younger boy wobbled back and fell to the floor, elbow hitting the glass coffee table surface.

“What the fuck, Lou?” he growled, standing up and rubbing his red elbow.

“It’s different than me and El and you know it is,” Louis hissed. “El knows the set up. She knows her part in this. If what you’re doing with whatsherface is a cover up, then why does she text you totally fucking oblivious to that? ‘Miss you babe,’ ‘Can’t wait to see you.’ Yeah, that really sounds like a cover to me.”

“Katie told me to get a girlfriend!” Harry protested. “So I did! They didn’t set it up for me like they did for you, they just told me to go and find one.”

“Why? After the shit I go through with El, why on EARTH would they suggest you do it and while you’re at it, blind sight the poor girl too? That makes no fucking sense Harry.”

“I’m sorry, okay. Everything’s just messed up at the moment and… I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, unable to fight, unable to argue a moment longer. He was tired of this. He just wished they could be free, wished things could be different. Harry fell to the sofa, willing the tears in his burning green orbs not to spill. He threw an arm over his eyes and took a deep breath when he felt a gentle touch ghost upon his wrist, soft fingers tracing the words inked there forever. Harry lowered his arm and looked at Louis, watching as he moved to sit down at the end of the sofa where Harry was curled up into a vulnerable ball of emotion. It was bittersweet, adorable, really. Wild mane of unruly curls and big glistening green marbles staring at Louis as if he was the most beautiful and terrible thing rolled into one.

“I know, love.” Louis whispered, reaching over to slip his hands in Harry’s mop of chaotic hair. Harry let his knees unbend and flatten, allowed Louis to crawl onto his lap, fingers softly sweeping through his curls. “We’ll be okay though. This won’t be forever,” he said, for what felt like the thousandth time. Harry nodded, watching through half-hooded eyes the way Louis’ eyelids were slowly falling shut, long eyelashes fluttering, and he was coming closer and Harry shut his eyes completely and could smell Louis’ warm cinnamon scent overwhelm him. Their lips brushed gently, a slow and soft kiss opening up like a rosebud hesitantly blossoming. Breaking apart, Louis brushed his nose against the tip of Harry’s and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Harry bit his lower lip, stomach doing a somersault at the way Louis was looking at him. His heart was clenching and the heat was suddenly gathering in his navel as Louis squirmed and shifted on his lap and Harry curled his hand around Louis’ nape.

“Kiss me you fool,” he smirked.

“I thought I did already?” Louis sassed.

“Kiss me again.”

“You kiss me…” Louis challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Harry sat up and knocked Louis over until he was on his back and Harry had one leg wedged between Louis’, smacking his mouth to Lou’s a second later and kissing him like it was the first and last time. The rosebud was open and there was no time for languid and slow kisses. Louis’ lips parted for Harry, his hands gripping Harry’s curls and tugging as Harry’s tongue slipped in, hot wet heat meeting, low moans escaping. Louis’ hands worked on Harry’s shirt, unbuttoning it while Harry’s mouth moved to his neck, sucking at the quickly fluttering pulse, hips grinding together. The bites were beginning to hurt, but Louis didn’t mind – in fact, he loved being claimed, relished in being marked by Harry. Lost in the moment, messy and uncoordinated, the need for friction, jean clad hips rutting together, low groans emanating from their throats, throats dotted in plum coloured bites. They stopped their squirming for a moment, staring at one another, hearts beating wildly behind ribcages, painfully. Louis leaned in closely again and worked on unbuttoning Harry’s chequered shirt. As the material fell off his shoulders, Louis let out a gasp, eyes falling upon the freshly inked skin with cling wrap taped to it. It looked a bit damp, as if some ink excess ink was bleeding out, the skin around it red and irritated.

“That’s where you were today?” Louis whispered, staring. “You were getting that done?”

“Yeah…”

“Does it say what I think it says?”

Harry’s heart, if possible, started pounding harder and faster. “Yup…”

Louis swallowed thickly and as the silence encased them, Harry could feel his heart ticking away nervously. Louis moved to straddle Harry again, reaching out to hold his jaw in his hands. “I fucking love you, Styles,” he whispered against his burning lips, leaning in to kiss him slowly, his tongue twisted around Harry’s, licking and sucking the wet length.

The insistent grinding was madness. Jeans too tight. Harry’s head fell back, a long moan slipping from his lips as Louis marked his neck, sucking the flesh there until a spot there became the shade of lilac love. In a careless tumble, they rose to their feet – Harry shirtless, Louis still fully clothed, and his hair sticking up at all ends. Their bodies stayed twisted together, Harry holding a fistful of Louis’ shirt, lips smacking together again as they blindly toppled into the bedroom. Sucking on Louis’ earlobe, Harry licked around the shell of his ear, butterflies erupting wildly inside as Louis shivered in his tight embrace. Harry moved to throw a pile of clothes on the end of their bed onto the floor and threw Louis to the mattress, crawling on top of him, mouths meeting, Harry pulling Louis’ shirt up and over his head. Louis whined, thrusting his hips up against Harry’s, eyes closed tight shut and cheeks a vibrant streak of crimson. Harry smirked at the writhing boy beneath him and kissed a butterfly trail down his torso, stopping at his naval just below the hem of his jeans. The centre was bulging impressively.

“H-Harry…”

Harry wasted no time in removing his jeans, sliding them down his legs and throwing them behind his shoulders, lowering his head to kiss at his inner thighs, when Louis reached down for Harry’s closest hand and slipped his fingers between the spaces of Harry’s.

“C’mon Harry,” he coaxed, licking his lips, a sheen of sweat already shimmering the pores of his face.

Harry moved to press a kiss to the straining bulge. Louis tensed, and Harry smiled tauntingly at Louis when his eyes shot open and their gazes met. Harry reached in and cupped it, biting his lower lip, watching as the hint of muscles in Louis’ abdomen tightened at the touch.

“Ha- Arry…” he swallowed, then Harry kept rubbing his hands over the brief-clad area, teasing him.

“What do you need, babe? Talk to me.”

“I need… to feel you…I need… you know what I need…”

“No,” Harry argued, moving away and sliding across Louis’ body, seeking out his ear, and letting his tongue slide around the shell of it again, “No. You must tell Daddy exactly what you need.”

“Nahhhh,” he whimpered, “Fuck. I need…I need you to suck my cock. Suck my cock. Please.”

“Say ‘Please Daddy, suck my cock.’” Harry instructed.

“P-Please, Daddy. Su-Suck my cock,” he echoed, voice straining.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Harry smiled, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of Louis’ briefs and pulling them down. “Took all your willpower not to cum in your pants, eh love? I can see you’re leaking a little, but you do have such a pretty cock, don’t you?” Harry commented as he grabbed it, rubbing his hand up and down it slowly before slipping it between his parting lips, bobbing his head on the length and letting the heat and warmth and saliva of his mouth coat it. It was turning him on even more watching Louis fall apart, his hand still clutching Harry’s, nails digging into his knuckles.

“O-Oh God,” Louis muttered deliriously as Harry let him brush the back of his throat, gagging around the length, eyes watering but coaxing Louis to fuck his mouth, moving back to bob on him faster and faster. “Jesus, fuck,” he whimpered, eyes glued to the way he was fucking Harry’s mouth, hips rising shallowly. Harry slipped his dick out and grabbed it, licking his tip teasingly and moving to lap at his balls whilst stroking him softly. Louis was wriggling and whining and coming close to ripping bits of Harry’s hair out.

“You wanna cum, baby?” Harry asked huskily, his mouth wet and swollen and Louis thought he might die. He nodded frantically.

“Beg me.”

“Please…” Louis said, biting his lip. “Let me cum, please. I’ll do anything,” he added, chest rising and falling quickly, his entire body flushed.

Eyes glinting, Harry lowered his head again and slipped the leaking and throbbing dick between his lips once more, deep-throating him, and bobbing his head on the fat cock again, his slurping sounds and hot wet mouth all over Louis being all that Louis could think about, and with a cry, he came, filling Harry’s mouth.

Louis groaned again, watching the way Harry happily swallowed his jizz, remembering the sight of Harry’s bright pink lips, his swollen mouth eagerly taking his cock.

“Now kiss me, you fool. And taste yourself,” Harry whispered, as Louis sat up on his knees and kissed Harry deeply, his own hands working on Harry’s belt and unloosening it.

“Not trying to get into my pants, are you?” Harry chuckled in his ear.

“So what if I was?” Louis asked, eyeing Harry up and down. “I’m sure your dick would appreciate it?”

“You wanna return the favour, do you?” Harry asked, looking smug when Louis’ face fell and a look of uncertainty crossed the older boys’ features. It always kind of amused Harry, how confident Louis was to the world, but when it was just them, he always seemed to be stuck second-guessing himself.

“Don’t you want…? I mean, whatever you want.”

“Turn around.” Harry said commandingly, and Louis’ eyes widened, but he obeyed, turning around for Harry and listening to the jingle of Harry’s belt as he jiggled out of his jeans and pulled his briefs off, nothing standing between them. Moving to nestle himself behind Louis, he tilted his plush lips to Louis’ ear and whispered hoarsely, “What do you want me to do, Loubear? Tell me. Whatever it is.”

“Oh God,” Louis trembled in response, backside arching up against Harry and feeling Harry’s cock brush against him. This had potential to be embarrassing. He couldn’t say it, but Harry wouldn’t let him off the hook, he knew that. Harry started stroking Louis’ spine up and down softly, kissing the back of his neck. “Tell me, Lou,” he whispered, biting on his earlobe.

“L-Lick me,” he gave in, shame washing over him, shame mixing with potent desire.

“Lick you where, Lou?”

“In…Inside,” he gulped. “Please.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked in his guttural tone, kissing his butterfly trail along Louis’ spine before coming to the plump cheeks, he bit into them and moved between them, letting his tongue slide in, lapping at the puckered skin. Louis was an incoherent mess, hard again already as he opened up for Harry’s tongue who started fucking him with it, in and out sloppily, the loud lapping sounds driving Louis crazy, the heat driving him to delirium. He was moaning and talking crazy, sure that the words leaving his lips weren’t making sense. Harry reached out for Louis’ cock and started pumping it while keeping his tongue embedded inside Louis, flicking it in and out, loving the way Louis’ arse thrust up gently, meeting his tongue.

“More, Lou?” Harry hissed, slipping his tongue out and tossing Louis around to face him. Harry’s mouth was a soaking wet mess, strings of saliva hanging when his lips parted, pressing his mouth to Lou’s and sucking his tongue up and down. Still fisting Louis’ cock, he went to gather the pre cum already gathering again and let it swirl around his fingertips, bringing it to their mouths, coating it on Louis’ lips and making him taste himself, before kissing him again, lapping it all up inside Lou’s mouth.

“What do you need now, Lou?” Harry rasped in his ear, hands on Louis’ shoulders and turning him around again, sliding up behind him once more.

“F-Fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to fuck you, Lou?” Harry asked, reaching over to the bedside table to grab the bottle of lube, he slowly undid it and held it above Louis, squirting it slowly and watching it slide between his cheeks. Harry took his dick and slid it up and down, taunting him. Louis’ arse wriggled back and up in response, aching for it.

“Ugh, y-yeah. Fuck me, Daddy. Please,” he pleaded, and Harry didn’t need telling twice. He opened Louis up and squirted more lube on before slowly slipping in, bit by bit, not wanting to hurt Louis. He could see that Louis was tensing, his free hand grabbing the pillow in front of him.

“More,” he instructed throatily, neck straining, flushed red, as Harry slid in deeper and gave an experimental tug in and out. Louis made a weird noise, torn between a hiss and a sharp cry.

“Lou? Baby? Is it too much? Do you wanna stop?”

“N-NO, keep going,” he said. “Please.”

Harry did it again, just a soft and slight rocking motion forwards, tilting his hips a bit, when suddenly the angle he’d hit made Louis curl up and moan deliciously.

“O-Oooh. Ha-Harry…” he breathed out. “Do…Do that again.”

So Harry did it again, slowly moving in and out, and suddenly Louis was grinding back against his throbbing cock and begging for Harry to do it faster and harder. Pound me, he said. Hurt me, he’d begged. Harry didn’t want to hurt Louis, but the sounds Louis was making was music to his ears, making the heat in his own veins increase, the warmth soon flooding in his gut. Harry could feel himself tightening. He started fucking Louis deeper, smacking into him, the flesh pounding together, his hand pumping Louis’ dick faster as the world started to blur and spin and his hips started stuttering and jerking, his mouth hooked on Louis’ earlobe again, sobbing as his cum shot through Louis and trickled down his thighs.

Louis let go a moment later, filling Harry’s hand with his hot sticky cum. Harry slumped against Louis, breathing heavily onto his sweat laced neck.

*****

“Hi,” Louis said to Harry hours later when they were in bed, cuddling up and listening to the rain trickle above the rooftops. Louis smiled at Harry, softly running his fingers through his wayward curls.

“Hi,” Harry echoed, drawing random patterns on Louis’ chest.

“You know, I was thinking,” Louis began, searching Harry’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking I love you,” he whispered in Harry’s ear, like it was a secret. And maybe it was. It was.

*****

Harry was snoring and fast asleep when Louis woke up. He had no idea what the time was. What with this constant British rain and grey skies, it was hard to tell what time of day it was. He slipped out of bed and reached for Harry’s dressing gown, wrapping it around his naked form, feeling a little sore as he wandered into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. He flicked the kettle on and looked for some biscuits, thinking he’d bring Harry a cuppa too, when Harry’s phone, lying forgotten on the sofa, started buzzing again. Curiosity aflame, Louis approached and picked it up, a scathing look on his face when he saw Taylor’s name lighting up. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he couldn’t help it. He opened the message, wondering why Harry didn’t have password protection. Probably a side effect of being too open and honest, Louis thought, shoulders slumping.

_I’ve got my flight booked. Can’t wait to see you. X._

Louis glared, wishing he could reply for Harry and tell her not to bother, not to bother because Harry belonged to him. The kettle had since boiled but Louis didn’t notice as he went back through the messages, wondering why Harry hadn’t deleted them. There were messages still here from months ago. Louis frowned, feeling his heart speed up. It was one thing to see Taylor write lovey messages, she thought they were an item, but why was Harry leading her on? What was he thinking?

_Miss you beautiful_

_Let’s go out when you get here, with Nick?_

_Love you too xo_

Well. So much for a cover-up. Louis felt stupid, like he was the world’s biggest fool. What had he been thinking, believing Harry, the biggest flirt he knew? A notorious heartbreaker to boot. A part of Louis had always just assumed that things were different between he and Harry. Maybe it was his imagination talking? Louis threw Harry’s phone back to the floor and picked up his own from the kitchen counter-top, moving to the deck outside sheltered with a roof which shielded him from the hissing rain. Louis should have known better though. The reality was plain to see. The world thought Louis was happily in love with Eleanor – that’s the image Modest wanted to sell, and all the while, he was hopelessly in love with his best friend who enjoyed fucking him when it suited and stringing along other girls in the meantime. What was he to Harry? Boyfriend? Fuck buddy? He didn’t know any more.

Louis could feel the pressure of his heart breaking behind his ribcage. “I was thinking I love you,” swirled back through his mind. Harry hadn’t said it back, just closed his eyes with a smile on his face and fallen asleep and yet he said it so easily to Taylor. Louis could feel his eyes beginning to sting with tears that he didn’t want to shed, he wasn’t weak, he wasn’t affected by this. This didn’t hurt him. Nothing could hurt him. He was strong.

Louis switched his phone on and logged into Twitter, reading through all the Larry messages that used to make him smile. He came across one in particular that was perfect, too perfect. This would hit Harry where it would hurt.

@skyleridk Hows this , Larry is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. I’m happy why can’t you accept that.

Louis submitted it and didn’t feel a single regret, heart pounding as he stared ahead at the pouring rain. Maybe they did love each other so much that it hurt. Maybe he loved Harry so much that he hated Harry for it, hating him for rendering him into this weak insecure mess. But it meant nothing. The tattoos, the way Louis had said he’d never get inked – he wasn’t into it, the way he was suddenly contradicting himself, letting the stories settle into his skin forever. It meant nothing, it was nothing, nothing but bullshit.


End file.
